Ain't No Sunshine
by Swinging Cloud
Summary: Santana's not foolish enough to believe that the sun is coming. She knows what's real and what isn't. (And she knows her sun has already set.) Season 5 sequel to Back to Black; short, ANGSTY smutty one-shots based off of Glee episodes. Brittana. Canon-based.
1. Ain't No Sunshine

**Rating: Hard R **(for smut and language)

**Disclaimer:** _Glee_ doesn't belong to me. If it did, it probably wouldn't suck as much.

**A/N:** Hi, everyone. I have returned with my season 5 Canon series. This can be seen as a sequel to season 4's **Back to Black**, but you don't have to read that story (or watch _Glee_) to understand this one. I'm writing this strictly to help get my feels out so it doesn't influence my other stories, but hopefully you guys who still give any fucks about Canon can use it for comfort, too. :)

So how does this story work?

-Well, most weeks (but not _every_ week, even I'm not magic) I will try and write a Brittana-themed chapter based on events in Canon. It's not easy to spin Brittana from the episodes, but I will do the best with what I am given. I like to play the game called, "Find the Brittana!"

-There will be mentions of other pairings (in this case, Dantana) because of what happens in Canon. I will REFER to them only. I will never write a non-Brittana scene.

-That being said, it's still going to probably be very hard to read because of the angsty nature of the story. So proceed with caution and prepare yourself for lots of feels.

Hopefully, as with last season's **Back to Black**, the story will get fluffier as Canon progresses.

Happy angst-ing! 8)~

* * *

_Ain't no sunshine when she's gone  
It's not warm when she's away  
This house just ain't no home  
Only darkness every day_

Sometimes Santana wonders if moments in her life are _real_.

Sometimes-

Sometimes she _says_ things, and it's like she's outside her body, like she can't hear herself, or like it's not _her_ speaking, because sometimes the pain makes her numb, makes her go through the motions, makes her thoughts blank, but her mouth doesn't stop.

(_I love her but… that's over_.)

(Never.)

So she wonders… is this real?

Dani is so, so cute.

But Dani- if Santana's being _real_- is not like Brittany.

She's blonde like Brittany, but not _gold_ blonde, not first-thing-in-the-morning _sunshine_ blonde. It's fake blonde, like darkness masquerading as the sun. It's not real.

(_Here comes the sun, little darling_…)

(Santana worries her sun has already set.)

How many sunrises had she watched with Brittany, half-naked and tangled in a blanket on her roof? How many sunrises had she missed because she'd been sleeping, head on Brittany's chest, all warm blankets and warmer limbs, wrapped around her like a safe cocoon?

How many sunrises did not even _exist,_ because days blur together, lose meaning, without Brittany? Because _her_ sun was gone?

(Where did the sun go?)

Dani has a nice smile.

But Dani's smile- if Santana's being _real_- is not like Brittany's.

It's missing a sneaky lift, it's missing the power to light up a room (to light up her world), it's missing a certain brightness. It's fake bright, and Santana wishes it could bring the warmth she desperately craves. It's not real.

(_The smiles returning to their faces_...)

How many times had Brittany smiled at her? (She'd counted the number of times she'd smiled at her, but she'd lost count a long time ago.) How many times had Brittany made _her_ smile, even when she didn't want to, even when smiling was the last thing she wanted to do? How many times had she smiled even just thinking of Brittany or something that reminded her of Brittany?

How many smiles faded, because smiling hurt too much, with Brittany gone?

(Santana worries her sun has already set.)

Dani has a nice voice.

But Dani's voice- if Santana's being _real_- is not like Brittany's.

It's missing that playfulness, and though they sound good together, it's not like the way her and Brittany sound together. Like how peanut butter and banana sandwiches are _good_, but nothing beats the tried-and-true familiarity of peanut butter and _jelly_, and Dani's charming, and she can play guitar, but if Brittany were here, they would be _dancing_, they would be laughing and teasing and touching and the world would disappear and she just misses Brittany so, _so much_.

Dani isn't real.

Not in the way Brittany is, not in the way Brittany is her _real_ best friend, not in the way Brittany really _knows_ her.

Not in the way Brittany is her sun.

So as the sun rises (not _her_ sun) all Santana can think about is how much Brittany enjoys watching the sun rise, and how much Dani doesn't smell anything like Brittany. She feels homesick and a little nauseous, and she hopes that Brittany's sunrises feel real.

(_For you, the sun will be shining_.)

(Santana worries her sun has already set.)

* * *

The kiss troubles her for days. It didn't feel _bad_; she's kissed other girls before, but she knew going into them that those other girls- Quinn, Elaine, whomever- knew not to expect more than she could give. They knew not to expect something _real_.

So when Dani kisses her, Santana worries that Dani will expect something real from her, and Santana knows that she can't give her that. Because Dani isn't real- only Brittany is. There can only be one sun, and she's found it, even though it's set. (The sun will always rise again.)

Dani intimidates her in a way Brittany doesn't. With Brittany, Santana feels comfortable, at ease. Maybe it's only as a result of knowing each other for years, but even if it is- why would she want to give that up and start over when she doesn't have to? Sure, Dani's cute, and blonde, and charming, but Santana knows she's not ready to give her something real.

(_I love her, but_-)

Later that night when her phone rings and Brittany's smile lights up her screen (lights up her world) her heart skips a beat like it does every time (real, real, real) and she answers with a smile because her sun just rose again.

_I saw your commercial_, Brittany says, voice bright and playful and familiar and _jelly_, and Santana can't help but feel proud and nervous. Secretly, she'd hoped that Brittany would see her commercial. She likes the idea of reminding Brittany that she exists, in case Brittany starts to forget.

(Santana worries her sun has already set.)

_Yeah?_ she asks, and when Brittany hums in approval, her smile lights her face, warmth fills her body. Nothing can make her feel the way _her sun_ makes her feel.

They talk for an hour, and even though they aren't technically together (_I love her, but_-) Santana initiates phone sex and Brittany doesn't refuse. Maybe it's to chase away the feel of another's lips on hers, _stealing_ a kiss, or the uncomfortable feeling of singing an intimate song with someone who isn't Brittany, or watching a fake sunrise, but she gives in to her desire. Brittany's moans are familiar, real. Her breathing is real. Her sweet, dirty talk is real. And when Santana's grip tightens on the phone as she listens to Brittany tell her, _I'm close, San_, her orgasm is real, and so is Brittany's.

With an _I love you_, they hang up, and Santana lies in her bed, staring at the ceiling and struggling with her feelings.

There's no sunshine without Brittany, but she needs sun to survive, even if it's fake.

(Where did the sun go?)

* * *

Rachel and Kurt accept Dani whole-heartedly. Maybe Rachel's trying to live through her, and maybe Kurt doesn't want to be the only one in a relationship, but they're both so happy to see Santana fake-happy. Maybe she's not completely fake-happy- after all, those five-dollar Ray-Bans they sell on Broadway aren't real, but they look and feel enough like the real thing to hold her over until she can get the authentic ones.

She can try to enjoy her fake sun.

Dani's blonde, but it's wrong, and being drunk with her on the floor is chill, but it's not _fun_.

It's not body-shot, stripper-dance, crazy-sex-in-the-bathroom fun.

But it's okay. Santana knows what this is.

But when Dani taps her nose, her stomach sinks, twists as that nauseous feeling returns to her. Her fuzzy mind flashes back and she swallows the lump in her throat as she remembers.

(_He doesn't deserve you_.)

Her heart pounds- not from excitement, not from the sight of the sun after a long, lonely winter. It pounds with fear, and she's suddenly very aware of her surroundings. Of whose hand she's holding. She's been here before. Deja vu.

This isn't real.

She knows what real is.

And Dani is cute and blonde and charming.

But Dani is not Brittany.

(Santana worries her sun has already set.)

She lets Dani hold her hand and hopes that she doesn't expect _real_ from her, because sometimes she says things she doesn't mean, even though she knows what her real response should be. She wishes she would have said what she meant, but it's too late now, so she holds onto her feelings.

(_I love her, but_-)

(_I love her, but-)_

_It's _not_ over_.

(_Never_.)

(The sun will always rise again.)

* * *

**Okay, so short one just to start us off. I'm a little rusty, and I'm also writing from Santana's POV this time, so hopefully it wasn't too bad. :)**

**Brittana will always be endgame. Always. If you don't believe me, just ask me, and I'll tell you. ;)**

**But seriously, this story is here to prove it! **

**See you next time, when I will be covering **_**The Quarterback**_** episode. :'(**


	2. An Ugly Fact of Life

**A/N:** Hi, everyone. Sorry for the delay, but thiiiis whole chapter/subject/whatever is um. Tough. So I needed to set a block of time aside to deal with it, and I didn't want it to affect my other stories.

Thanks for all the support so far. It's nice to see some of you returning from **B2B.** Welcome back, and thanks for reading! :)

As promised, this is covering **5.03**, so proceed with caution. No lyrics, either, because I chose an instrumental song which I think fits better than any lyric could.

* * *

Sometimes Santana wonders if events in her life are _real_.

Sometimes-

Sometimes things happen, and she's not sure how to react, because she's still not used to expressing her _feelings_- or at least feelings that make her seem weak. Sometimes she feels like she's outside her own body, like she's watching herself- _feeling_- but she doesn't really know what to say or what to do, because sometimes the pain makes her numb, makes her thoughts blank, but the world around her doesn't stop.

She can't believe he's gone.

_It was a nice funeral_, Brittany says softly from beside her on the bleachers (a _safe_ distance that makes her heart ache and her stomach clench) and Quinn scoffs meanly, but nods her head.

_For a funeral_, she says, her voice flat and emotionless, and under normal circumstances, Santana might worry about Quinn being mean to Brittany, but she's still outside her body, still cold and numb, so she can't say anything. She knows Quinn is just- hurt. She wishes she were hurt, herself. She wishes she was anything, anything but cold.

She doesn't miss the small, hurt noise Brittany makes in response, though- or the way her shoulders sag, the way she curls into herself, and she feels the impulse to comfort her, but her arms feel heavy and strange. She doesn't miss the way Brittany's eyes dart between her and Quinn, either, and Santana remembers that it's the first time the three of them have seen each other since the wedding, and she wonders if Brittany feels insecure about Quinn.

(_Here comes the sun_…)

(Santana worries her sun has already set.)

She's a little upset- a little _angry_- at herself, because she's happier to see Brittany than she is sad about the funeral. It's only been a few weeks since she's looked into blue eyes, but they never fail to make her feel better, to make her heart race, only this time, she has something- _someone_- holding her back. Brittany hasn't moved to Boston yet, because early admission doesn't mean _instant_ admission. She's just stopped going to school, because school stopped mattering.

She thinks high school stopped mattering for Brittany a long time ago.

(_You left me behind and it hurt_.)

Guilt makes her chest ache, but she can't deny that Brittany looks so pretty in her black dress, though she hates the sadness set behind blue eyes, hates the _gray_ there. She doesn't know how to make it go away, because she feels gray, herself, though not about what she should feel gray about.

She wishes she could feel anything but cold about it.

So she sits on the bleachers silently next to Quinn, next to _Brittany_, and gazes out into the empty football field, remembering, remembering, remembering.

(How many times had the three of them, dressed in red, white and black, pretty and sparkling under Friday night lights, cheered for him?)

Brittany slowly slips her right hand into her left one.

She holds on like she'll never let go. (She'll _never_ let Brittany go.)

* * *

It's weeks later and Santana is a little irate that the _memorial_ is happening so long after the funeral. It's not like she wants to just move on and forget (she can't forget something she hasn't acknowledged yet) but trips to Lima are expensive. She hopes, by going, she'll be able to let herself grieve. She's worried it still hasn't sunk in.

So she makes the trip to Lima, just days after Kurt, at the insistence of Rachel, who's _not_ okay (Santana worries she will never be _okay_ again, and wonders how she'd be if Brittany-) but who Santana can do nothing for except allow her the space she needs.

The other kids are all mourning, and Santana hates being around sad people, but she also feels like she owes it to him- though, when Trouty and Wheels get up to sing, she's reminded, very suddenly, of what's missing.

She's never sat in this choir room without Brittany.

Guilt hits her again, hard, and she realizes that she's had it easy, that she's a coward.

(_You left me behind and it hurt_.)

Santana's been kicked out of Glee Club before, left the Club of her own free will, left Lima- left Brittany there to deal with the emptiness- but Brittany's never, never, never left _her._ She'd always been there to welcome her back, to listen to her Taylor Swift song, to cheer her on in _Grease,_ to perform Supremes songs with, to deal with her petty jealousy, and as she looks around the room, it's glaringly obvious how empty it is without _the sun_.

Is this how Brittany felt, day after day, without her?

It's too much for her to take, and without any preamble, she leaves.

(Santana's worried her sun has already set.)

* * *

It's after her performance, and she runs out of that choir room. She can't be touched.

The only person she wants to hold her is _missing._ (Where did the sun go?)

She sits on that dark stage, after Kurt leaves, hugging _his_ jacket and crying for so long she's not even sure what she's crying about. Is it because _he's_ gone? Is it because she worries, deep down, that she's actually, truly a bad person? Is it because she feels guilty- about him, about Brittany? Is it because Brittany's gone? (_Everything's_ gone?)

She sobs, struggling to breathe, the pressure in her chest nearly consuming her. She hugs the jacket like a lifeline, mourning everything she's lost, mourning futures she hadn't even admitted to herself she'd planned (where she and Rachel and Kurt were like poster children, untouchable- their separate families converging on holidays, their kids growing up together- was that ever _real_?) and realizing that nothing in her life is ever certain.

(She wonders how she'd be if Brittany-)

When her sobs quiet- but the knot in her chest doesn't loosen- she looks out from the stage and feels that emptiness, that hollow ache in her chest. And she finally realizes, for the first time, that all of it- Glee Club, the choir room, her future- all of it means _nothing_ without her.

(Santana worries her sun has already set.)

There's nothing here for her, and there hasn't been- not since she left. And now it's even harder. She never thought she'd have to deal with this _alone_. (Is this how Brittany felt, day after day, without her?)

Her first instinct is to call Brittany. She pulls her phone out- but she _can't_; she reminds herself, _you have a girlfriend_, and reluctantly she dials Dani's number.

The phone rings and she feels her stomach sinking, like there's a stone in it, and feels as if she's going to throw up. It feels wrong, and when she hears the voice on the other end (the wrong tone, the wrong lilt, wrong, wrong, wrong) she panics and hangs up.

She can't do this.

Her phone rings, and she sees Dani's face, returning her call- but she hits the _fuck you_ button without a second thought, her fingers shaking.

Dani won't understand. Santana hasn't revealed _that_ part of herself, the ugly part, the bitch part, to her. She may never let Dani see it, never let her see _all_ of her- so Dani may try to comfort her, but she won't _truly_ know.

There's only one person who truly knows.

She needs her best friend.

She's about to get up, when she hears footsteps, and she freezes as a familiar blonde sits beside her (a _safe_ distance that makes her heart ache and her stomach clench) and all at once, her guilt, her sadness, everything comes rushing back and she lets out a shuddering sob. Instantly, warm arms are around her and Brittany's pulling her against her tightly.

_Oh honey, shhh_, Brittany coos, softly, stroking fingers through her dark hair, and Santana leans into her touch, crying harder. _I know. _Santana wonders how Brittany found her, wonders if someone called her, wonders if Brittany just_ knew_-

(Brittany always knows.)

Brittany hugs her tightly, and after a moment, Santana looks up with watery eyes and Brittany's eyes are blue, and _blue_, and understanding, and concerned, and when Brittany cups her neck, she buries her face against her and lets her hold her until she feels air returning to her, feels her chest-knot loosening.

Then, silently, Brittany guides her to her feet, keeping arms around her, and walks her out of the school, into her car, and drives her home.

* * *

She's lying in Brittany's arms on her bed later, letting Brittany rub soothing circles on her back and press gentle kisses to her forehead. And she feels her guilt surfacing again, making her feel as if her ribs might break.

_Why can't I be nice?_ she asks, her voice wavering with emotion she's struggling to control. _Why do I have to be such a bitch all the time?_

(_I'm a bitch because I have all these feelings... feelings for _you_, that I'm afraid of dealing with._)

_You _are_ nice_, Brittany murmurs, her hands never ceasing its pattern along Santana's back.

Santana shakes her head; her heart pounds, scared, scared, scared, but she knows Brittany knows who she truly is. (How can the sun ever like the dark?) _I feel like such a bad person. Why couldn't I have been nicer to him?_

_You're not a bad person_, Brittany says, and her voice sounds so sure, so strong with conviction, and her eyes are so fervent and determined, that Santana's heart leaps a little with hope that maybe she's right. _He knew that, Santana._ She pauses, cupping her face and tilting her chin up to bring their gazes back together. Brittany's eyes are warm like the ocean, and Santana feels tears spilling from her eyes as Brittany tells her, _He loved you- and so do I._

With a shuddering sob, Santana lets her tears fall, and Brittany thumbs them away, whispering soft words to her, stroking fingers through her hair. Eventually, her lips replace her thumbs, and she kisses all over Santana's face, and Santana closes her eyes and relishes her soft, reassuring touch.

Brittany places a kiss to the corner of her mouth, and Santana's eyes slant open, and all she can see is blue as she tilts her head, angling herself to allow Brittany to kiss her fully. When their lips press together, Santana feels a surge of excitement, and her stomach tightens with arousal. Brittany's hands are gentle and comforting as she slides them over her stomach, and Santana wraps arms around Brittany's neck, giving herself over to the familiarity and the sense of peace and home she always finds in Brittany.

Her clothes come off, slowly, and Brittany presses kisses across her body, so soft and electric that Santana's not sure she's ever really been touched, been loved, by anyone but Brittany. The thought of anyone else leaves her mind, replaced only with _this_.

Because only Brittany's hands can wash away her crippling doubt- because only Brittany has seen _all_ of her, knows _all_ of her, the ugly part- the bitch part- and still loves her, still loves _all_ of her. (Brittany loves _all_ of her.)

Through Brittany's touch, through Brittany's lips, Santana learns what kind of a person she is. She's soft, like the way Brittany's kisses are soft; she's strong, like the way Brittany's fingers are strong. She's slow, and hard, and gentle, and good, _so good_, like the way Brittany makes her feel, like the way Brittany fills her completely, and if she's full of Brittany, and Brittany's good, then she must be, too, right?

As Brittany continues to build her, pressing fingers deep inside her, with soft lips against her ear and an arm around her, cradling her, Santana finally starts to believe what Brittany's telling her, showing her.

Because Brittany is kind, and Brittany loves her, and if someone as sweet and innocent and everything that's good in such a miserable, stinking world loves her (Brittany loves _all_ of her) then-

Santana comes with a shuddering sob, her arms wrapped tight around Brittany's shoulders, her face buried in sweet-smelling, blonde hair against Brittany's neck. And as she holds on like she'll never let go (she'll _never_ let Brittany go) she feels her sense of loss creeping up on her again.

(She wonders how she'd be if Brittany-)

She squeezes her eyes shut and holds Brittany tighter, scared, scared, scared.

Brittany knows who she is- the only one who knows all of her. (Brittany loves _all_ of her.)

Santana's scared that Brittany will be the only one, forever. That no one will ever know her like Brittany does, love her like Brittany does.

(Santana worries that her sun has already set.)

* * *

It's hours later. Hours spent in silence just holding each other, naked. They never needed words between them, but Brittany can always tell how Santana's feeling, can always sense Santana's mood. Santana wonders if she should tell Brittany about Dani- wonders if Dani's even worth mentioning to her (does the sun feel threatened by artificial light?)- but decides that it's not the right time. It's not important enough to break the fragile state they're in.

She looks at Brittany, and feels overwhelming love surge through her. Love- and fear. The same fear she felt when she worried if Brittany had been killed by a shooter. She feels her own mortality, screaming loudly in her mind, and wonders how she'd be if it had been _Brittany's_ jacket she'd been clutching on that stage.

After all, Rachel had never even dreamed something like this could happen, and Santana's scared that someday, she'll be Rachel- mourning a future with someone she never got to have, crying over wasted opportunity ruined because of circumstance, missing someone who's _everything_-

_Do you think she'll be okay?_ Santana asks suddenly, voice small and timid as it breaks the silence. Brittany doesn't need to as who _she_ is- Brittany already knows.

(Brittany always knows.)

_I'm not sure_, Brittany admits, softly, still playing with dark hair. _But I _do_ know that she's strong, and she'll get through it, because she has a _good person_ by her side to help her._

Santana nods absently, resting her head on Brittany's shoulder, her eyelids feeling heavy.

It takes her a second to realize that Brittany's not talking about Kurt.

* * *

She wants his jacket, more than anything. She has to find it at all costs. It's more than just a jacket, represents more than just _him_. It's a reminder- a reminder of Friday night lights, of smiles and laughter in the choir room, of secret kisses backstage, of falling in love, of _family_.

It's a reminder of everything she's lost.

So maybe, if she _has_ it, maybe-

(Maybe she didn't lose it, after all.)

She's got to find that jacket.

* * *

**Heavy stuff. Ngl, I pretty much cried while writing this. Though, I'm not sure why, since it's not too terribly sad- I think? I tried to focus more on the Brittana of the episode (which is basically what this story is about) rather than the fact that Finn died. Because the episode already covered that, so. **

**Review if you feel like it, but if you're in your feels, that's okay. I am, too. :(**

**I should have another update for this week, either later this weekend or early next week- definitely before 5.05 airs- covering Santana in her Madonna cover-band. Should be a semi-fluffy-but-still-angsty-because-BRITTANA-FEEL S chapter. **

**So hopefully, see you then, pals! :D**


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